Things Fall Apart
by Bayonet
Summary: Contemplating suicide is a very tragic thing. Unless you're Pegasus, of course. Future Pegakai, I believe. Up to reviewer decisions.


A redo of Clouded Crimson. I know. Hell just froze over, aye? It's almost the end of school, summer is about to start, and I need something to do at that godless, sleepless, white night hour. So I found one. XD Maybe I'll whip out a Gojyo X Hakkai ficcy while I'm at a role. You never know with the spontaneous muses. So, enjoy. 

Disclaimer- Although I dream about it on a daily basis, the YuGiOh cast does not belong to me, but is the intellectual property of a golden god in Japan whose multi-syllable name has slipped my mind.

OOOO

Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the center cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,  
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned;  
The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.

William Butler Yeats, The Second Coming

OOOO

Contemplation. That one word. that one thought. It held him earthbound. for this moment, and this moment only. No, no. That wasn't the right thought process.

/You're talking to yourself./

And he knew it. And he knew he was insane. And dammit if he wasn't going to answer himself anyway. It was something to think about, other than the fact that he was standing on the edge of a two hundred foot drop off a cliff, in pouring rain.

/Well, slightly dramatic, aren't we?/

He has always been like that. So it was alright, it was a normal habit to go out like a rockstar. A performing artists, even in the taking of his own life. If that didn't have drama spelled all over it in bright red paint, he didn't know what did. His own thought process had to make him smile. He was thinking like himself, even if he wasn't himself to begin with. Losing a stupid game to a child, losing everything he held dear, even losing the chance to see someone in real flesh and blood that he had let escape his grasp, couldn't damage his sense of wit about his surroundings. Not like comical quips had ever saved his ass on any given occasion anyway.

And then it hit him. Selfishness. Guilt. The emotions he had attempted to escape and leave unclaimed in his room the minute he had decided to go through with suicide. But being an emotional man, that was like trying to unstick your hand from a moving truck when you were busy proving that the new super-glue worked. Really well. They had apparently crept up the stairs with him, hiding in the shadows of his own thin form, and jumping on him like some comical guilt trip. Damn the humor, damn it for coming along for the ride. He had to joke about everything, even suicide. Well, this proved it. He might as well just slip into the straight jacket and ship himself off to the asylum. Where all his doctors had suggested he should go anyway. But luckily, he did still have friends, although no-one would believe it. And his protection from the real world was something they took very seriously. How lucky for him, that he'd get a taste of it, first at the tender age of seventeen, and then again at twenty-four. Fate was a bitch. He had come to know her through painful experiences, awkward moments, and general stupidity. And to hell with those who though that Fate had nothing to do with the direction you were taking in life. Serendipity doesn't happen that often. Happy mistakes are not to blame for a life twenty-four years in the making.

Or maybe it was ruining. Certainly fit the bill better. For as far as he was concerned, his past couple of years on earth had been an unravelling, the flickering end of the string coming to rest at his feet at this moment, tonight, standing on this tower, looking down at the breaking waves below, hair whipping around his thin face. He was holding a rosary in his right hand, and had it pressed to his lips. He had for the past five minutes. Where he'd picked it up was still a mystery to him, for he knew of no religious items in the castle. Fate again. Damn her. Still, it was comforting, even for a man who had abandoned religion long ago for cold, hard reason. They felt warm against his palm, even in the lashing rain and wind. Godless fool that he was, he felt safe. For the first time in several years, no-one was out to get him.

Damn him. Damn his hope that he would somehow overcome the obstacles he had been faced with. damn the life he was living, as a shadow of a man that he once was. The rosary slipped out of his fingers, gently clicking against his nails as they slid. One by one. Like his life. One by one. With a sigh of resignation, he put one foot forward, teetered on the slippery stone, and fell carelessly off the edge.


End file.
